In Between
by Clarity Rose
Summary: The in-between stuff from years 3 through 6 for "Angel" F!Hawke and Fenris.
1. Wicked Grace

She was terrible at Wicked Grace. Varric knew it, and he chuckled from behind the splay of cards he held. She peered over the top of her own hand, trying to read the faces of the others at the table. Isabela was smirking, but that was the face she always made, good hand or bad. Anders was frowning, chewing on his bottem lip. A bad hand, then. Merrill looked like a kitten all wrapped up in a ball of yarn, elation pouring out of every direction.

Her golden eyes flicked towards the door, rather then let themselves land on the last person at the table. Avaline was suposed to be dropping by after her patrol. Hawke let herself worry about the woman who was more like a sister then a friend. It was easier then thinking about her terrible hand, or feeling his presence.

Him, Fenris. They had put Merrill between them, something they did often these days. Merrill, Varric, Avaline, Sebastian, always between them. Never Isabela or Anders though. Isabela was determined to get Fenris alone, and Anders was constantly clucking at how much better he would be for her. It wasn't that she didn't like Anders. He was handsome, and funny when he wasn't obsessing about the plight of the mages within the city. They had magic, and freedom, and they needed to make the world a better place for sane, strong willed, able minded mages.

She'd even met him first. The intrest had been genuin, and when Anders told her go away, the rebel in her made trying to get past his walls a game. She flirt with him, told him he was handsome, wore low cut robes bought especially to visit Anders at his clinic. Tight like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Isabela had picked it out. The game had been fun, thrilling. A distraction to the chaos that had built durring the mad dash to come up with the coin to convince Varric's brother to take them on as partners. Could she break the dangerous apostate?

It had been a game she played in Lothering, too. Could she flirt hard enough with the Templar recruits to get them to break their vows? Tease them just enough to watch them sweat? Carver had been horrified that it would lead to the whole order comming down on their heads. She wasn't a [i]bad[/i] girl, per say. She wasn't like Isabela, hadn't actually bedded anyone. It was a game, something to pass the time, to distract herself after her father died. Besides, it was [i]so[/i] much fun to watch a man squirm.

She had even toyed with the idea of actually letting Anders succeed in taking her. He really was a kindred soul, and dispite the game she played, she had a vested intrest in his goals for abolishing the circles. He was a good man, and fun as void to tease. It had abruptly ended the night she met Fenris.

Fenris. Dark, broody Fenris. Fenris with the eyes so filled with pain and hate and need. Fenris with the deep, quite voice that shook the very depths of her soul when he spoke. Fenris. It was almost a second hand thought that he was an elf, the first time they'd met. She had never payed much attention to elves before then. Merrill was an elf, but to Hawke Merrill was more like a kicked puppy looking for someone to rescue them. Adorable, sweet.

When he spoke about the slavers, hate burned in her veins so intensly it had scared her. He hadn't needed to pay her for her services. He could have asked her to throw herself off a cliff. That was the sheer imact of those eyes. She tore her way through the shades that had attacked them in that house. When he made comment about her being a mage, it tore through her like a jagged blade. The weakness there had startled her, and she did the only thing she could. She flirted. A defense mechnism. Be charming, bat your eyelashes. Her mother had taught her that no man would be willing to question a pretty face if it seemed helplessly innocent.

A flash of their night together snuck up on her. The feel of his hands, of his mouth on her soft flesh tore through her like a re-opened wound, startling her with its intensity. It made her tremble, andshe forced the thought away with every ouce of strength she had.

"Yoo-hoo, Hawke. Are you there?" Varric was snapping his fingers in her face. "If you're to tired to play, I can always take your bid for my own."

"What?" She looked up, the emotion sturred within her by the memory of him barely held in check.

"Ha, she returns! You drifted off on us there for a moment, Sweet-thing. Are you alright? You look like you're going to eat the table." Isabela's voice rang in her ears. Anders looked at her, his eyes full of concern.

She blushed, her eyes involentarily flicking towards Fenris, who looked to be trying to burn a hole through the table with his eyes alone. "I.. yes, I'm alright. I was just thinking. It's my bid?" She quickly tossed two gold coins on the growing pile, having no idea what was actually in her hand. Anything to change the subject.

Merrill squeaked and dropped her cards on the table, "That's it, I fold. I'll never be any good at this game."

Isabela chuckled, "Let me see what you have, kitten. Oh, look, see. You would have been fine. I'd guess it's better then what Anders is holding. Never reveal your hand, kitten. It's more fun to win when you've got the illusion of a good hand."

"Hey, I'll have you know I've got a very good hand."

"No you don't, blondie. You're taping your foot, which tells me you've got a terrible hand. But, I have a terrible hand too, and I don't have the coin to bluff my way out of a paper bag right now. I fold as well."

"I don't have a terrible hand," Anders protested, "Justice is just irritated that I'm playing cards and drinking."

Varric chuckled, "Sure blondie. And my father was a nug-wrangler."

Absently she tossed her cards face up on the table. Fenris chuckled, the depth of his quiet voice sending shivers down her spine. "Looks like I fold as well."

"Goodness Hawke. You're actually starting to get a hand at this game. Have you been paying for lessions?" Varric laughed, before taking a slug off of his mug.

"No, Isabela has been teaching me. I secretly think she's trying to get me in bed." Hawke said, the smirk creeping up on her. Isabela had asked, and as much fun as it had sounded, her heart was to raw with memories of Fenris and that night. She had sugested instead that the Pirate Queen teach her Wicked Grace, so they could clean Varric out one of these nights.

Varric's laughter nearly hid the force that Fenris applied to the table as he abruptly stood. Hawke's eyes flew up to meet the Elf's face. Something dark was swimming in the depths of those emerald eyes. "I think, it's time for me to be heading back home." He said after a moment.

"Well, alright elf. If that's what you want. Hawke, you should walk him home. You know how his swooning teenaged fanclub is when they carch him out alone. I've never seen so many noble girls mob an elf before, amusing as it is." Varric's knowing tone irritated the shit out of her. Nothing ever got past that dwarf.

"I'll be fine"

"No, he's right. I really should be heading home myself. Mother will worry. You know how very much she hates it when I walk around lowtown in the dark. It's never a good idea to be out alone." She said, standing up. She focused on taking the last few gupls of her wiskey.

"I can walk you home if you'd like Hawke. If Fenris is to tired, I mean. Your cellar leads right by my clinic anyway, so its not out of the way." Anders spoke, his voice vull of the true intent behind them.

"No." Fenris said quickly. "I'll walk her."

"It's alright, Anders. I'll come by tomarrow with those bandages I promised to bring. Can you make sure Merrill gets home safely?"

Anders sat down, frowning. "Alright. Be safe. Please."

Fenris gestured towards the door, the gentlemen that he was. She nodded towards her friends at the table, and walked out into the cool night air.


	2. Bridged

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas! 3

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

**Bridged**

"You know how my mother feels." Her words echoed in his mind as they walked, the apostate's staff clicking against the stone. It worried him, that almost a year after the death of Leandra, that Hawke continued to refer to her mother as a living person. Anders, in all his thinly veiled hatred, had explained it once.

The basic theory, was that combined with Hawke's abilities as a Spirit Healer and Force Mage, she was bound to the fade in a way that only Anders and the half-elf lad, Fayneral, had been able to understand. To Hawke, magic was never something evil, never something to be used for gain of power. It was a gift, and her faith in the maker was all wrapped up around it, intertwined in her use of it.

To have seen what Fenris knew only to well what magic could do in the hands of the weak... well, it had broken her. He didn't want to remember the look of utter devastation he had seen on her face, so raw and powerful that even her thickest layer of applied wit could cover it. She had seen countless bloodmages, and always told herself, and he, that it was desperation. Not evil.

It had just been easier for Hawke to think of her mother as a ghost, her sprit to strong to depart and leave her alone, then destroyed by the very thing that defined her whole existence. He supposed he could sympathize, even if he couldn't himself remember his own mother. He knew what it was like to love something that had so much potential to distroy.

The click-clack of Hawke's staff as they walked brought another image to his mind. Isabela, with all her curves and deep skin tones and sexuality, leaning suductively over Hawke. Whispering unheard things to Hawke. Leaning in for a kiss. The images boiled in his head, the temper of someone else touching her nearly spilling over and out .

"Isabela? Really?"

Hawke froze in place, the clack of her staff hitting the stone bricks a little harder then necessary. "I didn't think you cared." She said beneath clenched teeth. A fine tremble had broken out in the middle of her stomach and spread quickly over her was quickly flying into a rage, and needed to gain control before she accidentally set his stupidly sexy white hair on fire. "Should it matter?" she said, and took a slow breath of the cool air in.

Fenris closed his eyes. He wished he could tell her just how much he did care. How he had always cared. It had been something he promised himself he would never reveal to her. He hadn't imagined that it would bother him this much. He could feel her anger, but he was just as furious. The cold ball of rage forming quickly in his chest threatened to lash out at the apostate. Isabella. Isabella. That was almost worse then the thought of Anders. "So its true then?"

The woman's golden eyes blazed as she stared at him. "No, its not true. I'm not that kind of a woman, though you could hardly tell!" The barely held anger dripped through the wit she had always protected herself with. She couldn't explain how very much it hurt, white hot, to have him think she was able to be with anyone else the way they had been. She gripped her staff with both hands to control the urge to send him flying. How dare he, how dare he! For all the ach to be held by him she had felt earlier, now all she wanted to do was break the beautiful face glaring at her.

Her words hit him in the stomach like a crossbow bolt. He had expected her to move on after.. that night. Assumed that after breaking her heart that she'd have run off to Anders to soothe the wound. He wasn't even sure why he was mad at the idea of Her and Isabela. He knew it was a joke. He had seen for himself that she had turned the abomination down and danced just out of reach of the Pirate Queens advances.

He stood, with her glaring daggers, or perhaps magic, at him. He was rooted to the spot. For her to admit how very much he had hurt her with that simple accusation...

She continued to breath. It was easier then thinking, and right now she had all she could do to contain the power threatening to explode out of her fingertips. It was why she was always so aloof, easier to be sarcastic and light then get angry and lose control. She wanted to hurt him, just then. Break and tear and set him on fire. Do to him what he had done to her that night.

"I can't. I just can't" his words echoed through her as she stood, trembling with anger and longing. He had left, the memories had been to much, and he'd gone. He'd been given the only gift she had to give in this life, her love, and he had thrown it away like so much garbage.

Even after her mother.. had gone to the makers side, and he had come to awkwardly comfort her, and she had sat in his arms and sobbed, it had been as much about what had happened, as her need for him. For her soul that was raw and bleeding from the sheer loss. Not even carver's death had broken her so very much.

She knew he still cared, but the pain of being accused.. by him, of letting anyone else but him touch her. How could she keep this inside of her and continue to be sane? How could she continue to love someone who clearly held her in such contempt? He hated her magic, hated her cause.. and the very idea that she would.. What had happened to her best friend?

She stood, gripping her stave, twisting the red scarf she used to keep her grip on the thing mid-battle. She was completely unaware that he had moved closer. burried in her own thoughts, trying to control her breathing to keep the magic from exploding out of her. She wasn't aware of how close he was, untill she felt his fingers move through her hair.

"I'm sorry." Two simple words. That was all it took. She was shaking, crying, losing control. Falling, her cool demeanor shattered like a broken window pain, tinkling around her in slow motion as he rose to catch her. His strong arms winding around her, giving her somewhere solid to land.

"I'm sorry", he'd said it again, his voice thick with emotion. She leaned into his chest, sobbing. Raw, bleeding, painful sobs full of all of the stress of the last year. The duel to save the city from the Quiniari, the murder of her mother, the broken heart that refused to heal. All of it came pouring out, right there in the middle of the bridge between Lowtown and Hightown.

They sat, though she wasn't sure how they'd ended up on the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around hers as she cried into his chest. He held her tight, as if he were afraid she would break. She would have, had he loosened his grip for even a moment, she was sure. She felt his warm mouth on her forhead, and her heart broke all over again. It caused a whole new wave of painful sobs, and she clung to him.

"I can't be what you need. I'm sorry. That doesn't mean I wouldn't die for you." The anguish in his voice was only a portion of what he felt, holding this strong woman in his arms as she broke. Nothing could make him let go of her, not ever again. He knew he couldn't be what she wanted, what she needed, but he would be there, for her. There was no one else.

He continued to kiss her forehead gently, smelling her hair, feeling the softness against his cheek. Never, would he let her go again. Even if she eventually moved on, to find someone who could give her the things she longed for.. he would love her, forever.

He shifted his weight slightly, long enough to unty the red cloth from the staff of this mage, the irony of it all, that he loved so fiercely. "As long as I wear this, you will know how I feel." He said, and tied it around his wrist.


	3. Obsession

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

Inspiration hits at 6am. damn you, bioware! *fist shake, sip coffee* Thank you for making a wonderful game 3. Part3, In between years 4 and 7, for Hawke and Fenris and the scooby gang! Short and sweet, blame the need for more coffee.

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><p><strong>Obsession<strong>

Anders paced back and forth between the empty cots. Over and over in his head he replayed her words, much to the irritation of Justice. Anders pushed away the angry voice of his friend, choosing to dwel on the lingering images in his head. Pretty Hawke, with her laughing smile, golden eyes, and dark, shiny hair. Hawke with her kind heart and sensuality oozing confidence.

"She's an obsession. We have a task to worry about."

He sighed and sat down. Justice was right, he was obsessed. How could anyone not obsess about a woman like Hawke? She deserved nothing less then the burning desire he held for her. She was the perfect woman, and he should have been the perfect man for her. She had even expressed her interest. Teased him, given him a key to her a quick get away, she had said, should the templars come sniffing around. He knew better though. Then, he had been all she could think about.

Not after they met THAT ELF.

The hatred for fenris always surprised him. It surprised him more that Justice felt very similar. Fenris wasn't a bad person, he'd seen the darkest side of the mage world. Anders understood that. What he couldn't understand was why Fenris didn't GET IT that mages were as much slaves as the elves in Tevinter. Locked up, made to do horrible things, always the threat of tranquility or death over your head. Not to mention that whole, some templars were sick ****s who liked to touch and torture children. Anders had been lucky, he had been spared the abuse. Some of his friends had not been so lucky.

Yet, she had chosen the elf over him. Even though the Elf hated everything about mages. He effectively hated HER. He couldn't understand how the Elf and her could get along so well, even while she had been working side by side with the resistance, freeing mages. The Elf had even hurt her. Anders could tell. One day she had been peppy and full of life, and the next there had been an edge of pain in those kind eyes. It made him want to break things. No, It made him want to break Fenris.

Fenris, Fenris. He was pacing again, and Justice was clucking like a mother hen, telling him to stop dwelling on this woman when they had more pressing matters to deal with. Anders shook his head. He shouldn't have waited. He should have made a move. He shouldn't have told her to go away, should have wrapped the curvy brunette in his arms and told her of his feelings. He should have touched her in all of her secret places and showed her just what kind of man he really was.

"Contemplating my death again, Anders?" The deep voice broke his thought pricess and he looked up at the direction it had come from. A surge of spite rise up in him, and it took every once of his beening not to break the smirking face looking at him. Fenris.

"What... do you want." Anders said through clenched teeth, trying to gain control of himself.

"I've come bearing gifts, a request from Hawke." Fenris hefted the large wooden box in his arms, to indicate his purpous. "She asked me if I would bring these supplies to you. She's not feeling up to it, just yet."

The implication of Fenris's words sent angry trembles through the apostate. Not up to it because she'd spent the night with him, again? After he threw her away? She'd let him come back and..

Fenris was still talking, "... Bohdan doesn't like coming down here, and she's gotten herself a cold, I suspect."

A cold. Anders felt the anger draining away. Just a cold. Not a night with Fenris after all. Or at least, not a second one. "Perhaps I should go up and see her.. i-if she's got a cold."

"No." Fenris set the box down on a nearby cot. It was just then, that he noticed the red scarf tied around the elf's armored wrist. "I think you should do your very best to leave her alone. You're dangerous, and I don't want to see her hurt because of your actions." The calm, deep voice of the elf was steady.

"Do you really.." Anders could feel the contempt for the slave rise up and overtake him. "I would never hurt her, not like you did."

The elf took 4 steps and pressed a gauntleted finger squarely into his chest. "You know nothing about what happened between she and I. Leaving was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Unlike you, I know I'm not good for her health. Better I leave, then she get hurt."

Anders glared at the elf, inches from him. All he need to is reach out and push with his mind, and the elf would die. He could then have Hawke to himself. The urge to do it itched through his fingertips. The image of her face lanced through his mind, and he did the strongest thing he could have done. He took a step back.

Through clenched teeth he said, "You hurt her more by leaving, then anything a slaver could do to her. It's a shame you can't see it. Now get out of my clinic before I kill you."


	4. Comfort

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

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><p><strong>Comfort<strong>

She rolled over, one golden eye popping open at the sudden recognition of the absence of his warmth. She bolted upright, the horror of him leaving again washing over her like a wave in a hurricane. Sleepy eyes scanned the room, panic causing the little hairs on her arms and neck to stand straight up in goose flesh. Her heart thudded in her throat as it began to splinter all over again.

"You're finally awake?" His voice, the shock of hearing it when she was so sure she wouldn't, caused the panic to subside almost at once. A different feeling spread through her, her heart forgetting to beat all together for an instant or twenty. She grabbed her chest and took a couple slow, deep breaths as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead, a gesture that almost exploded her already pounding heart. She leaned into it, into him and his warmth, let it wash over her. He hadn't left. He'd stayed, been with her in all but the most intimate of ways. He couldn't, and so she wouldn't ask him to do that. Instead he had held her tightly as she had finally let the gates of control open and nearly overwhelm her. Carver's death, mothers, the idea that he may be right about his theory of mages.. that even she could some day fall pray to the trappings of the power she could wield. All of it, had come rushing out like a flood.

He had wrapped her in his strong arms, let her cry. He stayed, loved her, and would never again leave her side. He had even told her that she should, could move on. She didn't want to. She brought her hands to his face, running her thumbs gently down the lyrium markings on his chin. She felt him flinch, but knew now that they didn't physically hurt to be touched. The memory was what pained him.

She kissed him, kissed him to set the whole world on fire. Kissed him to forget that she had been separate from him for almost a year. Feeling raced through her like the white hot fire she could conjure, up her arms, down her spine, to her toes. She clung to him, every second their lips touched feeling like eternity. This must have been what it was like, for Andraste to finally be with The Maker, she thought absently, weaving her fingers in his silken hair.

Eventually he pried himself away from her, breathing slowly, shaking. After a moment, he chuckled, "You know, you are making this very hard."

"I hate doing things the easy way. You know me." she said, giving him a lopsided grin. She took a few shaky breaths and squirmed a little bit.

"While you were sleeping I brought The Ab.. Anders the box of medical supplies. You were talking about it in your sleep. I hope that's alright?" He said, carefully probing her with those eyes.

"Hmm, oh, thank you. I have been meening to go down and help... but, maybe I'll ask Sebastian." She let herself fall back into her feather pillows. "Did Justice come out and threaten to kill you again? I'm not sure why he hates you so much. It's not.. it.. " the words caught in her throat. She cleared her throat, and after a moment said, "It isn't as if you are completely wrong about the power we weild.". It was as close as she could come to an admission that magic was enharently evil.

"I may be right, but it's not an absolute truth, Angel." He said, using her first name. If the shock of him actually saying mages weren't all bad hadn't killed her just then, it was because he had never used her first name. Her heart almost exploded and she was sure it was pouring out of the bottoms of her feet. She would be a puddle of goo in mere moments at this rate.

A knock at her door brought her partially back to the world at large. Fenris was standing, taking a defensive stance as he opened the door. "Mis...mistress, there.. there's a letter here for you." the little blonde elf stammered at the sight of Fenris, holding a letter up in front of her face and flinching. Probably remembering what Fenris had done to her last mistress. Orana. The Slave they had rescued when hunting for Hadriana.

Fenris's features were stony as he walked away from the girl, setting himself in the chair next to Angel's desk. He had been disgusted that Angel would take a slave. She hadn't, she wasn't a slaver. Instead she'd offered the girl a home, and payed her a decent wage. What the girl did with the money, Angel had no idea. While Fenris had been revealed, it still made him uncomfortable when ever the elf girl was nearby. Fenris twisted the red silk scarf around his wrist while Angel Hawke took the letter from the girl.

"Thank you Orana. Can you ask Bohdan to ready my staff for me?" Hawke asked the girl, always careful not to seem demanding.

"Yes mistress, right away." The girl said before disappearing through the doorway, the heavy oak door shutting quietly behind her.

She looked at Fernis apologetically. "Sorry, I know she bothers you. I have no idea if she uses the money I pay her. I should ask Varric."

He was boring a hole in the floor with those emerald eyes of his. Thinking of that night, no doubt. Angel chose to give him a moment, opening the letter.

[i]Missere Hawke,

I am sorry for disturbing you, but I have no one else to turn to! Someone has kidnapped my son! They are asking for a ransom, and say that if we send anyone they will kill him! Please, come to the docks this evening and mediate the exchange.

Lady Arenburg[/i]

She looked up from the letter, shook her head, and sighed. "Fen, can you take this letter to Varric? We've got a job. I'll get Anders, and meet you at the hanged man in an hour."

He looked up at her, and with a nod and a kiss on the cheek, was gone. It was going to be a long day.

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><p>Again with the short and sweet. I dislike this entry, but what's done is done and I'm going to leave it. Someday I'll go back and re-write it, but.. I don't have the energy for it right now .<p> 


	5. Pie

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas! 3

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

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><p><strong>Pie<strong>

She flopped on to her bed ungracefully, dark hair spilling out of the leather strip she sued to tie it back. Every bit ached. They had rescued half a dozen elf children from a slavers nest. Completely worth the ache spreading endlessly through her limbs. The bed shook as someone joined her, and she opened a solitary golden eyeball to spy the bed-intruder. After a moment's recognition, she closed the eye and scooped the heavy gauntleted hand into her own. The weight of it did little to let her forget her fatigue, but she hugged it to her chest and let herself just breath.

Fenris sprawled himself out next to her, staring endlessly at the canopy top. The days events running through his head. Absently his mind suggested he take off some of his armor to allow his tired muscles to recuperate. A swift panicked thought of being bare-fleshed so close to Hawke chased the other thought away like a mabari chasing a thief. Removing armor and clothing so close to her would only lead to things he wasn't ready to try again.. just now anyway.

Images of the battle flashed before him. Flashes of sweat, blood, and the faces of the slavers as he sliced through them. Never wavering a moment, never hesitating. The faces of the children caged, awaiting a fate they could only imagine in their worst nightmares.. he felt the burning hatred well up in his chest, threatening to spill out, even now. Nothing had made him that angry in a long time. Not since Hadriana.

The image was shifting, even as his hatred threatened to swallow him whole. His vision was filled with the image of Angel, sprawled out on the ground after taking a spell to the face from one of the Slaver Archons. The sound of her scream rung in his ears, and the panic exploding out of his lungs as he had scrambled towards her sent shivers down his spine.

"ELF, THE MAGE! BLONDIE, GET HAWKE!" Varric's voice echoed through him. He had done what he was told, putting his fist through the skull of the mage that had dared threaten his Hawke. As soon as the screams of the Archon had subsided, Fenris had scrambled to the limp figure lying across Anders' lap. Possessively he had scooped Hawke up into his arms, cradling her as Anders waved his hands over her slowly.

Her lips on his forehead brought him out of his thoughts. "Shh, it's alright Fen.. ", she was saying. He hadn't been aware he was hyperventilating. Her fingers weaved gently through his hair, and her lips moved down the bridge of his nose slowly, whispered nothings between gentle kisses. It set his whole world on fire, and when her lips finally met his, the intensity of it all took his breath away. He could feel her weight on his hips as she slid on top of him, and an ache that had nothing to do with sore mussels drove him to the brink of insanity.

Why had he denied this woman, run from her? She was sexy, strong, confidant, kind.. there weren't enough words in common or Tevinter that could describe all of the wonderful things she was. He pulled his gauntlets off, throwing them to the floor, and wound his fingers in her thick mahogany hair. Each kiss of her plump, soft lips sent him higher and higher, until he felt that he would fly away in her embrace.

When she began to pull away, he protested, rumbling his deep voice against her soft throat. She was trembling, and he couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from the depths of his chest. She pressed her forhead against his, panting heavily, dark hair spilling over the two of them like a curtain.

"Sorry," She grinned down at him, her golden eyes full of impish glee.

"Don't be sorry." He purred up at her, tipping his chin to catch her lips.

After another lifetime, she had managed to detangle herself from him, knowing if they continued on the current course there would be a repeat of the time before. She couldn't bare to see that pain in his eyes again, and so she chose to act like a lady. Even if she really, really didn't want to. It had been a wonderful distraction, though, from the aches and pains threatening to re-emerge.

She rolled over and placed a single kiss on his cheek, "I'm going to go find something to eat." and slid off the bed, wincing as she padded barefoot out of her room, down the stone stairs, and towards the kitchen. The smell of Orana's cooking attacked her senses, causing her stomach to grumble in protest. Laughter assaulted her ears as she pushed the door open. A raised eyebrow met Anders, Varric, and Isabela. The three were seated at her kitchen counter, strawberry rhubarb pie utterly covering their faces.

The look on the faces of the pie-eaters was of shock. As if they hadn't expected her to appear. "Uh, Hawke.. This isn't what it looks like."

"Yes, we're totally not 'eating your pie'"

Varric snorted, nearly choking on a mouth full of pie.

Fenris's voice crept up behind her, making her loose it, the laughter bursting out of her as she sunk to the floor gasping for air. "Isabela would know all about how to eat pie, wouldn't she"

* * *

><p>This started out really well, but then my hubby put a piece of pie in front of me.. and then all I could imagine was Hawke and crew eating pie...<p>

EDIT 4/11: I'm starting to get the hang of this posting on thing. I almost have a handle on how it works now :O I've also noticed how short these are. I could/should combine some of these.. but I'm not sure where i should. Oh well. Short and sweet will have to be my motto!

~;~


	6. Cookies

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

* * *

><p><strong>Cookies<strong>

"So if the two of you are together, why is he still squatting in that house around the corner?" Avaline mused quietly, picking from the assortment of cookies displayed elegantly on the silver tray.

"You know Fenris. He likes his own space. He needs to have a place that is his, and his alone. Its part and partial to the whole, ex-slave thing, I suspect. Besides, its not as if he is here with me every night. I think it would drive us both insane if he did." Angel Hawke sighed, choosing a cookie of her own. She quietly thanked the maker for having sent Orana. Angel was a horrible cook.

"So it's true then, that you two aren't.."

"Yes, but please don't tell Isabela. Or Anders. Varric knows, and that is only because he's a nosey prig. The last thing I need is Isabela trying to get her claws on him. Or Anders going all doe-eyed and trying to move in."

Avaline chuckled, trying not to spit cookie out all over the place. "Isabela's deeper then she gives herself credit for, you know. If you make it clear that Fenris is off-limits, she'll back off."

Angel blinked across the kitchen table at the red-haired guard captain. "Is this the same Avaline who couldn't stand to be in the same room as the pirate queen?"

Avaline laughed. "Of course. I've just.. gotten to know her better, is all. There was that whole, selflessly returning to save the day thing as well."

".. and the pushing you to the brink of murder when you were courting Donnic?" Angel twinkled, taking a bite out of her cookie.

"Yes, there is that too," Avaline chuckled. "I promise, on my honor, that I wont tell Isabela."

"Thank you, Avaline."

"So, how has it been? I mean, being together but not, you know, together?"

"Horrible. I just want to tie him down and have my way with him. But.."

"But?"

"Well, he can't. I mean, we can't. It's... well of course I can tell you. You're closer to me then even Bethany was before she died.. " Angel frowned at the memory of her sister being crushed by the Ogre oh-so-many years ago now. "Our.. relations, brings out old memories from his past. Which would almost be okay, but it fades almost as fast as it comes. It's to hard on him, right now anyway, and he can't deal. He just shuts down."

"Poor Fenris.. no wonder he's always so guarded. I can't even imagine what he's been through."

"Mmhm." Angel nodded, chewing thoughtfully on her third cherry chocolate chip cookie.

"These are really good."

"I know. Orana is going to make me fat with all her sweets. I think she knows how.. frustrated.. I am. Trying to sate it with sweets isn't helping me though. I was tempted to go visit the 'rose. Then I had the horrifying thought of running into my uncle and changed my mind."

"No, best stick to cookies and killing slavers. We wouldn't want you to have to visit Anders."

Angel paused mid bite. The image of Anders' face having to treat her for something awful she would no doubt pick up from a night at the rose sent a wave of giggles through her.

"Oh Anders, I picked something up by NOT SLEEPING WITH YOU, will you treat me?" Angel laughed, "I can just see his face now, utterly horrified because I chose to visit the brothel instead of let him," She made air-quotes, "Show what happens when you taunt a mage."

"Careful," Avaline chuckled, " He would storm the rose, all glowing, and demand justice for your virtue."

Angel pounded on the table, trying to catch her breath in the hilarity of the image. Avaline grinned ear to ear, picking another cookie from the tray.

"Anders is cute," She said, after regaining her composure, "but I doubt that I could manage to put up with him long term. I'm all for the freedom of mages, but I doubt I could stomach it ALL THE TIME."

"Besides, I'm sure one day Fenris will crack, or you will, and we'll have adorable 'Hawkris' babies threatening to devour the world."

"Hmm, don't remind me of making babies. Quick, give me another cookie."

* * *

><p>GIRL TALK OVER COOKIES. This snip-it came out of a conversaion over in the fenris thread about fenris shaped cookies that glow. And I was hungry. Blame M.E.G. I do, it usually works well XD<p> 


	7. Another Life

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

* * *

><p><strong>Another Life<strong>

Angel stared endlessly at the roof of her canopy bed. Her skin crawled, the sound of his voice echoing in her head over and over. Emotion churned in her stomach, and she rolled over on her side. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she closed her eyes, trying to think of something, anything else.

With a sigh, she sat up. Moping around thinking about it wasn't helping. Why was she just lying around anyway? Wasn't there some charity ball or high town luncheon she was supposed to be attending? Why was there no letters of distress because the neighbors dog ate the cat or some such other silliness she seemed to be dealing with on a daily basis?

She stood, and began pacing the floor. Her mind raged at her. Those brown eyes kept appearing and reappearing in her vision as she paced, threatening to overwhelm her. She felt like she was suffocating, leaning against the mantle of her fire place to take a few deep breaths. Outside her window birds chirped, children laughed, and the sun shone. She needed to get out.

She reached her arm into her wardrobe, plucking out her best looking mage tunic and tugged it firmly over her head. It took her a moment, making sure to secure the lightweight silverite chain shirt over the top. She slid her leather breeches up, securing them with the heavy red leather-and-silverite belt. She took her stave into her hand, a fine weapon crafted to look like a quinari pole-arm. She hefted it a moment, letting the buzz of the power trapped within give her small comfort.

She took a moment to glance at herself in the body-long mirror attacked to the door of her wardrobe. Staring back at her was a rave-haired beauty. The woman's golden hawk eyes were lined with a kohl gray and glowed with the hint of a power not to be trifled with. Her pouty lips, painted in a deep reddish brown, looked kissibly soft. Her creamy, lightly tanned skin was free of blemishes and looked fresh as babies breath.

'Maker,' She thought to herself, 'no wonder this sort of thing keeps happening to me.'

Those burnt senna eyes flashed through her mind again, and she trembled involuntarily. She quickly closed the door to her wardrobe, if a little harder then she'd meant to. She spun around, her loose pony tail flopping against her back, and headed out of her room and down the stairs.

"Bohdan? Orana? I'm going out! I need to get some sunshine!"

"Can I have some Salamanders, please?" Sandal yelled as Angel headed for the door.

"Sure Sandal, I'll bring some back!"

The intensity of the sun on her face caused her to wince as she closed the door of the mansion behind her. A warm spring day greeted her, and she took a deep breath. Nothing, was more wonderful, then the smell of Hightown on a warm, spring day. The smell of pies, perfumes, well tended gardens, and arrogance. Compared to the smells of Lowtown, it was heaven.

"I'll go see if Fenris is home. A healthy dose of him aught to make everything better." She muttered to herself as she headed towards the Chantry square. Children ran past her as she walked, clicking the pointy end of her staff against the stone. They were playing chase-and-catch, a game she and her siblings had played when they were young.

The thought of her deceased twin siblings caught her off guard, causing tears to fill her eyes. She hadn't thought of either of them in so long.. there was never usually time to breath, let alone think. The blight had taken them both, just barely at the cusp of life. First Bethany.. sweet, funny Bethany, her bright flame snuffed out in an instant by the hands of an ogre while they were fleeing for their lives. Then Carver, sarcastic, obnoxious, whiny, wonderful Carver. She had put him to the knife herself, but the dreaded blight had been inside her brothers veins.

Sodding Deeproads. If she ever had to back there it would be to soon. She shook her head and continued to walk, letting herself get lost in the clickity-clack of her stave against the hard stone. She wondered, what would have become of her brother and sister, had she stood in their way, taken the ogre's blow or listened to her mothers pleas for Carver to stay behind in Kirkwall. If the blight hadn't come at all...

She wondered what her father would have said about being the champion of Kirkwall. Her father, Malcome Hawke, with his laughing golden eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. A whole new ache grew in her chest, a longing to see her father again, just one more time. He had been a good man, one who had loved her mother, siblings, and herself fiercely. He had taught her to use her magic, and how to hide it.

He had been so proud of her when she had mastered both fire and ice spells. When she had showed him that she had figured out on her own how to heal, he had been impressed. Whe she learned she was able to manipulate the gravity around her, her father had looked at her with a fear in his eyes that she herself had been scared from. Malcome Hawke was no healer, and he was no force mage. Where, then, had his daughter learned it?

"Tell me about your Father?", his voice echoed through her memory, catching her off guard one more time. She cussed at herself silently. She'd thought she had chased out thoughts of him. Thoughts of family usually were good for quashing tortured thoughts of men when you were sworn to love another.

She sat down on the wooden dock, slipping he shoes off. She slid her feet carefully into the cool waters of the harbor, having no idea how she'd managed to walk all the way to the docks. It hadn't even been the direction she was originally headed in. She leaned back against the palms of her hands, eyes closed, and just let the sunshine fill her whole existence for a few moments.

The blazing orange from behind her eyelids helped to chase away all of her thoughts, and she just let herself feel. The breeze off the water cooled her, the gulls screaming overhead filled her ears. It was really a shame she hated being on a boat, otherwise she could really see the appeal that Isabela had always been talking about.

To just hop on a ship and sail away into the sunset, far away from the problems of this city... it was tempting. She couldn't leave Fenris though. No matter what was threatening to haunt her thoughts, she did love Fenris. Mind you, he didn't conjure up images of a quiet life, full of laughing children and warm brown eyes quite the way... the way Anders had.

Anders. The scene came rushing back to her, and she felt heat on her face that had nothing to do with the bright mid-day sun.

"Tell me about your father. He must have been quite the man, to be able to teach both you and your sister magic with out getting caught." Anders had looked at her with his warm brown eyes when he'd asked her. No one had asked her about her father before, and she was all to happy to talk about him.

"Malcome Hawke was a mage here in Kirkwall. He and my mother met by accident, a chance meeting in the Hightown market. They actually ran face first into each other." She had laughed, recalling the story. "Mother always said it was fate, and that she was in love at first sight. I'm not sure if that's true. My father was a bit like you, really.. taking pleasure and fun where he could get it. Must be a circle mage thing."

He had laughed, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty clinic. "I haven't been that way in a few years now, but I was, once, quite the play-boy, yes. A bit more like Isabela then is probably healthy. I get the idea that you're more like your father then you'd like to admit, too, Hawke."

She should have been insulted. She had only been with one man, ever, and it had only been one time. She wasn't though. She definitely enjoyed the game, at the very least. So, she laughed instead. "Maybe, but my mother did teach me how to be a proper lady, when it really counts."

"That's not the way Isabela tells it." He smirked, his eyes dancing from her face to her chest before snapping back.

"Isabela is full of nug-shit. I turned her down when she came calling. I'm sure it would have been fun, but sex isn't something you should just give away to anyone that comes calling. I mean, the game is fun and I enjoy playing it.. but sex should be reserved.. for love." She blushed, looking down at her hands.

"Do you love him?"

"I.. yes, I do."

"Why?" He had moved, so fast, holding both her hands and looking face to face at her, those brown eyes pouring into her with all their sadness and longing. "What would make you love someone who hates everything that you are? Love me, instead, Angel. I don't hate you, I cherish you. You being a mage is a maker granted gift that should be nurtured and worshiped, not brow beat into submission by templars and mage-hating ex-slaves."

She pulled her hands away, pressing her back firmly against the wall. Through clenched teeth, she replied, "He's not like that. You just don't know him."

Anders hands were on her, cupping her face, "No, you don't know him. But I know you. I know that you need a man who understands how delicate you really are. You need a man who loves all of you. Who'll drown the whole world in blood, for you.." He was to close, and his lips brushed against hers. Just the slightest touch, and it set her whole world on fire. He was kissing her then, with all the passion and want and love he could muster. Kissing her to show her just how he felt.

She was gasping, sinking under the waves of passion that came with each kiss. The need to be touched by a man who she could touch back was so strong that it caused her to tremble as they kissed. She clung to him, desperate and sobbing. Hating herself for wanting to be needed this way.. wanting this, him so much, even when she knew it was wrong. Even when it was Fenris that she truly wanted.

When he finally pulled away, Anders looked smug, as if he'd known all along that his kiss alone would break Fenris's spell over her. He wiped teh tears off of her cheeks, and kissed her again, gently.

'I can't.. Anders, I can't.. "

"It's alright Angel. Let me love you."

It had been to much, and she didn't know if she was upside down or right side up. "I.. I have to go."

and she had. She ran, through the endless corridors of the extensive whine cellars that connected his clinic with her home. She'd locked herself in her bedroom, and stared endlessly at the roof of her canopy bed. Thinking about him, his touch.. and Fenris.

"You really shouldn't be out here alone. It's going to be dark soon." Her chest filled with longing as his voice touched her ears and tore out her heart. She opened a single eyeball, looking straight up at the beautiful face of her Fenris. He leaned down gently, filling her vision with a cloud of silvery-white hair and tanned flesh. His lips were upon hers, her nose and cheek nuzzled against his throat as he kissed her. It took her off guard, because Fenris was never a 'public display' kind of man.

She'd been an idiot. Fenris's kiss moved the whole world, and put it right back where it had been before her visit to Anders' clinic. There was nothing more perfect for her, then Fenris. He was worth waiting for. When the kiss finally ended, she looked up at him and smiled. "I Love You", she said simply, pulling her feet out of the water and spinning around to face him properly.

"And I, you."

* * *

><p>Varric shuffled the cards in his hands. First he cut the deck, then he put each half between thumb and fingers. With a flick of each wrist, the cards quickly and deftly melted into each other. He tapped the deck against the table, and repeated the process again. Anders sat with wide eyed amazement, watching the quick movements of the dwarf's hands.<p>

"How do you always do that so fast?"

"Heh, it just takes practice, blondie. You should try it, keep those hands busy."

"I have plenty to do with the clinic, and other things."

"Other things, eh blondie? Let me give you a word of advice. You probably shouldn't be kissing Hawke anywhere that word of it will come to my ears. If I know about it, then he'll know about it. I'd hate to see you get your heart ripped out by that magical fist thing he does."

Anders froze, his hands on the pile of cards Varric had dealt to him. Heat crept up into his face, and it took him a solid twenty seconds before he could swallow the lump in his throat. "What? I... "

"Blondie, I know everything that goes on in this town."

Anders sighed, dropping his head to the stone table. "I couldn't help it. Besides, he's hardly a man. More like a half-wild dog ready to bite the hand that feeds it. I just.. wanted her to know that there were more options. I shouldn't feel that way for her, and justice hates it, but I do. You know?"

"The Elf's not so bad. A little broody for my taste, but he's funny. Besides, he's better at Diamondback then you." Varric chuckled, "Maybe I shouldn't like him after all. I get more coin from you!"

Anders smirked, sorting his cards. He had a terrible hand, but it didn't really matter. His thoughts were lingering on the kiss shared between Hawke and him the previous afternoon. He'd been so sure, with the heat behind those redish-brown lips, that she had finally come to her senses. Yet, she'd run off, leaving him standing there like a fool. He was a fool, and Justice was right. Angel Hawke was his personal obsession, a distraction he hardly could afford.

"Deal me us in Varric. Kitten and I are bored of shopping." Anders winced at the sensual voice of Isabela, pulling him away from his thoughts. "Besides, I hear there is juicy gossip to be spread. Something about Anders and Hawke, a steamy embrace in the depths of Darktown.."

Merrill giggled, sitting down beside Isabela with all the grace of a feline. The petite elf was pretty, if a little bit to insane for Anders tastes. He was partial to the dark-haired, brown eyed human type. The thought of Hawke's face brought a blush to his cheeks, and he swore at himself silently. Never before had a woman so utterly fustrated him. He was Anders the playboy. Even the Warden-Commander Queen, with all her earnest green eyes and toned warriors body, hadn't compelled him the way Hawke did.

"So, is it true? Did Hawke chose you over Fenris?" Merrill peered at him, her large green eyes wide in honest curiosity.

"From what I heard, she melted into a puddle. I really am jealous, Anders. She wouldn't 'puddle' for me."

Anders gritted his teeth, deciding it was a good time for a topic change, "So did I ever tell you how I became a warden?"

Varric laughed, "No, but I bet it's a good story. Why don't you start at the beginning."

"Oh, spoilsport. Here Kitten, go get us some drinks at the bar." Isabela pouted, but never the less put her head in her hands, leaning in to listen to the story. Merrill nodded, padding out of Varric's suite towards the bar. "Alright then, how did you become a warden?"

"I'd escaped from the tower for my 7th time. I'd spent nearly a year in solitary at that point. Gregor was trying to convince Irving that I should be executed, but thankfully Irving thought I was nothing more then a charming scamp, and no real danger to anyone." His voice was laced with an edge of bitterness, but he continued on. "In any case, I had caught word that the circle's phylactery stores had been moved to Amaranthine after Hawke's cousin, wouldn't you know, Amell, had assisted a Blood Mage destroy a few of them to escape. I managed to slip out durring the whole Uldred Abominiation thing. I just missed meeting her then, you know."

"Her?" Varric fingered his mug, listening intently. "Her who?"

"Why, the Hero of Ferelden, of course. She had come looking for recruits to fight off the blight, and saved the mages from the Right of Annulment. I missed her by days. Anyways, I headed towards Amaranthine, and spent time there under the guise of a brothel worker. Fun times, I miss them. I spent about a year dodging the templars there while a friend tried to find out information for me."

"Oh I met her. We had _quite_ the time, if I remember correctly. Her and that warden Alistair. Who knew a ex-templar could have.."

Anders cleared his throat, "My story, not yours. You can tell me all about it another time."

Isabela laughed, "Fine, but you spoil all my fun."

"The blight was over, and I still had no idea where my Phylactery was. I got antsy, because my .. friend.. had disappeared. I decided to do a bit of my investigating on my own. It was half way to a farm house when I got caught by the templars. I apparently was to be brought in and executed. Fun stuff, really. But, the where headed to Vigil's Keep to restock, and so that's where we headed."

Anders took a drink, shooting a thankful glance at Merrill, who stared endlessly, enthralled in his story. "We couldn't have had worse timing. We got there ten minutes before the Darkspawn attacked. Apparently there was a whole legion of Orlesian wardens stationed there, a gift to the wardens after the blight. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to survive the attack, but my templar friends sure didn't. I was roasting the last of the twitching fiends when she broke through the door."

"Wow! Did she really? Did she kick the door in and everything?"

Anders laughed, "That she did, Merrill. This petite, toned, dark haired, beauty of a woman covered head to toe in armor and wielding two of the biggest long-swords I had ever seen came crashing through the door behind me, ready to cut any darkspawn that might have been in the room into tiny peices. The only thing I could do was look around at the dead templars and darkspawn, and say, 'I didn't do it'."

Varric roared. "You didn't do it, eh blondie?"

"Nope, I had actually not killed the templars, though I would have liked to. But, its not a good idea to kill big, armored men when Darkspawn are trying to kill you. Anyway, she's standing there, staring daggers and knives and those long-swords at me, and then she started asking me questions! How did the assault happen, who was left alive, so on and so forth. I thought I was dead, and she asks if I can _heal_. So I followed her. Followed her as she cut a path through the Darkspawn like they were WEEDS. I have never before or after ever met another person as small as this woman was be able to take on so many Darkspawn at once."

"I always knew I should be scared shitless of her. She was fun though." Isabela smirked.

"That she was."

"Oh? Wasn't she married by then?"

"Yes, she was. I didn't sleep with her, though I would have liked to. I had the feeling she was interested. Not nearly enough time to twiddle away at her resolve for King Alistair though. Her faithfulness to him even irritated Nathaniel, but that's another story." Anders grinned and took a gulp off of his mug. "In any case, after we ran into Oghren.. erh, he's a Dwarf, and also another story... we headed up to the ramparts. There, we found the senechal in the clutches of a TALKING darkspawn. Very creepy."

"Darkspawn don't talk!" Merrill gasped, looking down at her mug with wide eyes.

"Oh, they do.. its hard to explain and I'd rather not go into it. To talk about it usually invites them to suddenly appear and we've got enough problems in this city with out darkspawn." Anders said with a smirk, " Besides, The Warden-Commander cut its head off with a single swipe of those long-swords, and saved the day in one single moment."

Varric delt out another hand, listening intently as Anders told the story. "So, the day is saved, and Vigil's Keep is utterly cleansed of the darkspawn. We just start getting things in order.. and here comes the king and a huge entorage of knights. This is when we found out that the Warden-Commander was also the Queen of Ferelden. She's standing there, staring the King in the face.. and then Kisses him! I about died, because untill then I had no idea who this woman was, other then scary strong and possibly insane."

"So she's the Queen of Ferelden, which makes her the Hero of Ferelden, and ten times scarier then she was 5 minutes previous because shes killed an Archdemon and survived. I was so busy dwelling on that very fact that I didn't even notice the Templar till it was to late. 'blablabla dangerous apostate, blablabla' and both the king and the queen looked at that lady-templar and I thought the world was going to explode. 'He assisted us in protecting several dozen survivors from a Darkspawn attack, including myself. He's not dangerous, and I see no need for him to be returned to the circle.' She said that! I about died. No one sticks up for mages! I had no idea that some of her best friends were mages at the time, but even still! And then she turned to me, and said, 'I cannot protect you unless you become a Warden. If you do, I can offer you freedom from the circle for your assistance here.'"

Varric stared, unbelieving, as Anders took a breath. "Andraste's holy tits, blondie! She conscripted you to keep you out of the circle?"

"That she did. The look on the Templar-Commander's face was PRICELESS. And King Alistair agreed with her! 'If anyone knows the worth of someone, its my wife. If she feels he can aid the wardens here, then she has my blessing'. It really is a shame the rest of the Wardens aren't all like Her. Did you know she conscripted the son of the man who slaughtered her whole family? I think originally it was out of revenge, but She and Nathaniel ended up being really good friends."

"You're full of shit. No way did that happen." Varric sputtered, setting his mug down with a thump.

"Makers honest truth. That woman collected the strangest cast of friends I have ever met. Maybe one day I'll tell Merrill about the crazy, murderous Dalish elf we recruited. Or perhaps about the Legion of the Dead Dwarf. And then, there was Justice, whom you've all met, sort of." Anders grinned. It was nice to think about happier, even if chaotic, times. The look on his friends faces were more then worth it.

"Another round, blondie? And don't think you're getting out of telling us what happened between you and Hawke."

* * *

><p>Two entries combined into one to give it a little bit of substance. Love it or hate it, there it is XD 333333333333<p> 


	8. Alone

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

WARNING: Naughtyness is naughty. Badly written, and blushworthy. Be kind, but you've totally been warned!

* * *

><p><strong>Alone<strong>

"I'm with you.. but I need to find my own place in this world." - Carver.

It had been a while since her brother had randomly popped into her head. Since becoming the Champion she'd hardly had time to stop and think about what had happened all those years ago. It wasn't a random though, though. It had come from staring endlessly at the portrait of her father, the only bit of him they'd managed to rescue when they fled Lothering.

He looked so much like him, she thought to herself as she thumbed over the painting gently. Except in the eyes. Bethany and I got fathers eyes.

"What did you say, love?"

She nearly jumped out of her own skin. The throaty laugh that came next made her heart skip a beat for an intirely different reason. Fenris.

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was talking out loud." She smiled, spinning around to a face full of beautiful emerald eyes. She brushed her lips against his in greeting, an act that caused those sensual lips of his to upturn into a smirk. The look had its effect, and she was practically a puddle in his arms.

"Hmm, who is this in the painting?" He asked, setting himself down next to her on the bed.

"It's my father. This was the only thing we couldn't leave behind when we left Ferelden. I.. I feel like I let him down." She sighed, running her hand over the face of the handsome, brown-hair-and-eyed man.

She felt his arms around her shoulders, and his lips in her hair. "You couldn't let anyone down, let alone your father. I remember your mother telling me once how very much you were like him."

She peered a single golden eye at Fenris. "When did she tell you that?"

"Oh, on one of the many evenings I was here spying on you. She caught me sitting outside your bedroom window, and invited me in for a snack."

"You were spying out side my bedroom window?" Hawke hit him with a pillow, and he laughed.

"I was. I used to do that quite often, you know. Before I was welcomed to come and go as I please, that is. Even before.. well lets just say I was captivated by you, even then."

"Between you and Avaline, I'll never have any privacy." She laughed, resting her head against his shoulder. "Did she really think I was like him?"

"That she did. She told me quite the story of you nearly being caught by the templars when you were just a little girl. Did you really set the man's horse on fire?"

"It was an accident! I was seven!" She laughed, her face flushing with embarrassment. How dare mother tell him that story! "I'm surprised she didn't tell you about the time I set CARVER on fire."

"Hmm, no she didn't tell me that one. I now have a better understanding about why exactly your brother wasn't so very fond of you." He laughed, taking the portrait from Angel's hands and setting it carefully on the nightstand.

"I miss him. Carver. He wasn't always the prig you met. He was funny, and kind.. even if he didn't want anyone else to know. Beth and I knew, when he went out and freed a half dozen baby foxes from the traps outside Barland's farm when he was 12. I don't think I had ever seen that old man be so angry when he went to check his traps the next day and his eggplant crop was eaten!" She giggled, dropping her head against her pillow.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear me talk about my past. I.. was just thinking how much like my father Carver looked, and it got me all nostalgic for lost times." She sighed up at the roof her canopy bed. "I don't think I will ever forgive myself for taking him into the deep roads with us..."

Fenris smiled, and in attempt to steer the subject back on track said, "I just like listening to you talk, Angel. It doesn't bother me that you have good memories of your family. I'm sure there are plenty bad ones to drown the whole world, with the way your mother talked of running from the templars the way you had." He unhooked each clasp of his skin-tight armor, shrugging out of it and setting it on the chair by the doorway.

He climbed onto the bed, stretching out with his back partially against the headboard. He put his arms over his head, and smiled down at her. His muscles flexed and rippled, and she couldn't help but scoot closer. She ran an single finger down his abs, stopping just above his pants. "Keep that up, and I'll change my mind about waiting until you're ready" she said as she smirked up at him.

His deep laughter bubbled up from the depths of that strong abdomen. The effect was staggering, and she had to press her cheek gently against his chest to keep herself from climbing on top of him right then and there. She closed her eyes, taking slow, steady breaths as the waves of need washed over her. The thumping of his heartbeat wasn't helping, as it had sped up to match her own.

She twisted her head, placing little kisses along his markings. Soft kisses, her lips barely brushing against the skin. The rumble of his voice sent shivers down her spine. "Hawke..." His voice was laced with so much want and desperation, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to let her continue, or make her stop.

She continued her trail of descending kisses, each as soft as the previous. When her lips reached his pant line, she looked up at him. His chest was heaving, and he was gripping the posts of her bed as if they were trying to kill him. She grinned, the look of a purely evil woman, and slid on to his hips, straddling him and staring down at the pained look on his face.

"Sorry.. " her voice playful, before she leaned in to kiss him on the lips. His face rose to meet hers, the heat behind the kiss speaking volumes of his desire to her. Each paring of their lips sent shock waves of passion through her, igniting her imagination, and causing her hips to grind unsuccessfully against the bulge ever-straining against his tight leather pants.

She sat up, grinning wickedly down at him. Her eyes flicked towards his hands, and an idea lept into her mind. With a quick laugh, she leaned forward and untied the red silk favor he wore around his wrist. He groaned in protest, but she simply shook her head. A twist of a hand later, and the scarf was now secured firly around both tanned wrist and solid mahogany bed post.

"Hawke.."

"Shh." she responded, reaching over him to rummage through her nightstand. A moment later she produced a second silken scarf, black in color. With deft fingers she secured it firmly around his right wrist. "There.. now you can't say no."

"We can't.." His voice wavered, the desire to let himself forget what had happened the last time very much present within the depths of the weak protest.

"I can do what ever I like, but I wont break that promise. Not yet. Now hush and let me play." With that, she pulled her silken robe over her head. She watched as he stared endlessly at her bare breasts, the giggle and flush of embarrassment washing over her momentarily. She recovered from the exposure quickly, pressing her chest against his.

She slowly slid her bare breasts down the length of his chest and abdomen, reveling in the feel of her nipples against his skin and the groan boiling out from the depths of his chest. She kept sliding, until she reached his leathers. She reached a single hand beneath the tight leather, pulling his member free from its restraints.

"[i]Hawke..[/i]" The moan that escaped his lips did nothing to dissuade her from her goal. She felt her lips curl in a smirk as she ran her fingers gently down the shaft. She petted, for a moment or two, her fingertips gentle. His rumbling sent hot shivers down her stomach, driving her to near insanity with want.

Since she couldn't have him the way she wanted, she settled for the next best thing. She dipped her head to drag her lips along the head, fingers still gently petting. The noises he made, it drove her onward, and she let her lips part. She took him into her mouth, inch by inch. Once she'd managed the whole thing, she gently rubbed her tongue along the base, reveling in the groaning emanating from him.

Fenris twisted, arching his back against the feeling of her warm mouth on his member. He dug his fingers in to the bed posts, unable to touch her. It was madding. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, pull her mouth to his, push deep into her warmth and ride the waves of ecstasy that only she could provide for him.

She giggled against the shaft, her throat vibrating. It caused him to moan louder, feeling washing over every inch of his body. She was cruel, evil, wicked.. and he could die a happy man like this. He would let no one else tie him up and take advantage of him as she was, anyone else would die. She? He'd let her kill him, if it meant that this was his last moment.

She lifted her head, pulling her lips and mouth away from him. He protested, the deep rumbling in his chest an indication that he was enjoying her little torture session. Yet, she had something else in mind, and shifted her weight. Within moments she had wrapped her breasts around his member, the soft flesh rubbing gently against the moist shaft.

"Hawke..!" He twisted and groaned. This was something completely new. The feel of her soft flesh against his member sent waves of pleasure crashing through him. Worse, when she began to move the soft mounds up and down the length of his shaft, like silk, that was both firm and delicate.

She giggled, the fun of watching him writhe on the bed as she teased him, his manhood resting firmly between her breasts. She dipped her head again, pulling the head between her lips as it appeared out of the top of her mounds. It was a perfect effect, and she felt him twitch with the impending orgasm.

He moaned, feeling the build up of pressure, the pure joy of release as he came, trembling and sweating as his seed spilled out and onto her chest. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to hold on to the feeling for a few moments longer. He ran his tongue over his teeth, ever inch of him shaking.

She grinned wide, rubbing her breasts against him while he finished, making sure to get every bit. Then, she pulled away, crawling up the length of the bed to kiss him. "Hmm, that was fun," she purred, running her tongue along his bottem lip.

"You,.. are pure .. evil."

"I know."


	9. Pace

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

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><p><strong>Pace<strong>

He paced. He liked pacing, it always helped give him perspective. The motion of his feet, the strain on his muscles as he moved quickly from one side of the room to the other. The repetitive motion, it helped. A little sweat was never bad, and with the way the fire raged in the hearth as he walked back and forth did its part in adding to the heat building inside of him.

Thoughts and visions swam in his head as he paced. Images of Anders, that abomination, and the way he stared endlessly at Hawke. The words were Isabela's, laced with jealousy and malice. [i]"... caught them in quite the steamy embrace..."[/i]He growled, pausing mid-stride to punch his fist into the stone wall, through the stone wall. He would kill that disgusting abomination for so much as looking at her! Tear his heart out and make him watch it beat in his hand as the last of his life went out of him!

The pacing continued, picking up as if it had never ceased. His jaw aching from the repressed scream that threatened to tear itself out of his chest. Could he really believe the Pirate? Was she just jealous that he had very clearly made it known that her advanced were unwelcome? Hawke couldn't have.. she wouldn't have.. and with that abomination!

His memory flared, flashes of her lips, her touch. His face grew hot, and he stopped to smash his fist through an already broken table. How could he have been so stupid! Why would anyone like Hawke love him? Love.. he didn't deserve love. Didn't deserve to be content, to be happy. It had made him soft. He was being used, and even the untrustworthy pirate had been able to see it.

Pacing. It wasn't helping like it normally did. The anger burned in his veins, tightening his chest like the heat from a thousand suns. He would kill the apostate and then he would leave. Yes, leave, before she could come calling for him again. He'd been a damned fool. He put his foot through the unused bed, literally, causing the dusty piece of furniture to crack and splinter with the force of his anger.

"Fernris?" To late, he thought. He should have gone sooner. Shouldn't have stayed pacing. She was standing there, in the doorway, with those big brown eyes. Eyes more golden then brown, and full of emotion. Good, they should! They should feel remorse for taking advantage of him!

"What do you want?" he spat in her direction, the anger spilling out into his words.

She recoiled as if he'd slapped her. Good! She should feel as I feel! Her voice trembled, "Fenris, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" He laughed. It was bitter sounding, and tasted like the acid he put behind his words. "I was.. informed... that dispite what we've been through, what I promised.. that you have.. found.. solice... in HIM."

Those golden brown eyes widened. In Shock? Surprise? Her dark eyebrows disappeared completely into the hair spilling out of her lazy ponytail. That's right, I know! "Fenris, that's not..."

"Not what? Not how you wanted me to find out?"

"No!" She was trembling. Hawke, with all her strength and courage was falling to peices in front of him. He'd sworn never to let her break because of him again, and there she was, breaking. Good! She should shatter into a thousand peices for lieing! "Who told you that!" she was asking, no, demanding. Determination crept into this woman's face for just one instant, before going out like a snuffed candle and returning to developing state of broken.

"Does it matter? I know. I know you went to him..!"

"No, I didn't! I didn't Fenris. I went to talk, nothing more!"

"LIAR."

She flinched, tears rolling down those beautiful cheeks. He felt his heart break, seeing her cry. He shook his head, tried to ignore it. "I'm not lieing, Fenris! I love you. He kissed me, and I ran. It was wrong, and reminded me that I love only you. I SWEAR IT." She was sinking to the ground, her voice disintegrating in between the sobs that came from her throat. Tortured sobs, each one crashing into Fenris. Each one melting the layers of anger and hatred.

He moved across the room, and scooped her up in one swift motion. He pulled her into his arms and ran his bare fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry." It was just that simple. Her voice and demeanor, the violent shaking had been all he needed to see, to hear. He knew she was not lieing. "I'm sorry for ever believing Isabela.. and I will kill him for touching you."

* * *

><p>Pacing. It felt as if he was pacing forever. Her words echoed in his head, [i]"No, don't. Please. He was trying to protect me, he just doesn't understand.."[i]

They had been talking of her family, she had said. Something he couldn't do with her, compair stories of his past with hers. They'd been talking about her father, and she'd made mention that Anders reminded her of Malcome. It hurt, a little, to know that that abomination reminded Hawke of her father. He could not remind anyone of a loved parent.

It hadn't been made apparent that they'd reconciled. No one knew. Well, no one knew outside of Varric and Isabela. Those two always managed to know everything Hawke was doing. It irritated him a bit, but the thought didn't linger. Hawke's voice returned to the forefront of his mind. Anders had asked if she still loved Fenris, and she had admitted that she did. That bit of information had sent his heart in a round of thumping that threatened to cause his chest to explode.

Anders had always liked Hawke. Even Fenris knew that. Isabela constantly teased the two of them about their dual infatuations with the woman, usually while in the company of each other and Hawke. Hawke had always just blushed and miraculously found herself with something suddenly super important to do.

So when Anders saw her hurting, she'd said, he gave caution to the wind and had kissed her, to show her that someone could love her back. He hadn't known that She and Fenris had reconciled. She hadn't accepted the advance, chosing to flee rather then take fault in the apostate's actions.

The whole thing made him hot, and caused him to pace. More pacing, as if it would never end and he'd forever be trapped in a loop of endless back-and-forth movement and angry thoughts. He'd promised her that he wouldn't kill the abomination, but she hadn't said anything about just talking with him. Yes, just talking.

He left his blade at home. Better not to bring a weapon with him. He didn't need it anyhow. If he was driven to destroy the face of the golden apostate, he much prefered to use his fists. He closed the door of Denarius's mansion, pulling hard to make sure it actually closed, and headed down the stairs towards Lowtown.

"So, are you going to kill him?" The voice purred in his ear as he walked, and he resisted the urge to swing. Isabela. "What about her? Did you tear her heart out and shred it into little pieces?"

"No. It's none of your concern, wench."

"Oh, poor Fenris. Did your heart get broken? Why don't you let me put it back together.."

"I suggest you get away from me before I do to you what I promised I wouldn't do to him."

The teasing halted, but he continued to hear her footsteps behind him. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. "So what DID happen? Neither of them will talk about it, and I am just dieing to know."

"It is not your concern." He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. Once upon a time he would have thought this woman worth knowing, even for curiosities sake. Now, all he wanted to do was break that smug face.

"So it's true then. He did kiss her! From your reaction I take it that it was less then welcomed though. A shame, really. Anders is fun. She doesn't know what she's missing out on."

"Why does it not surprise me to find out you have even slept with that abomination."

"It's a gift." He could feel that smirk on the back of his neck. It made him itchy. He turned a corner, heading towards the docks. It wouldn't be much longer before he was in the Undercity. What would he say, when he got there? Would he be able to talk at all, or just put his fist through the man's face?

"Oh you're no fun. Fine, go break his color bone or something. Just remember, I'm sure she'll be quite irritated if you kill him. Toodles!" and with that, the pirate was gone.

He kept walking. The cool evening air helped to calm his anger. Maybe it was a bad idea, confronting Anders. Maybe it better if he just turned around and headed right back up to his mansion. Maybe stop and visit with Varric at the Hanged Man, get a drink. Play some cards and forget all about the burning need to tell that apostate to keep his lips off of his woman.

His woman. Did he even have the right to call her that? As if she were as much a possession as his sword or his armor? She didn't belong to him, even if he felt as if she belonged with him. She was no possession, she was but an extension of himself, a piece of his whole. So yes, she was his woman, as he was hers.

Darktown. The smell of rotting, everything, met his nostrils and he cringed. The darkness of the night seemed so much more bleak and destitute here. Yet, you could always find safety here, if you knew what to look for. The lit lanterns. He followed them, leading him directly to the healing clinic that Anders ran and lived-in. When they were lit outside his door, it meant he was in, awake, and practicing his healing magics.

The thought of magic gave him an unpleasant chill, bringing goosebumps and the dull throb of pain to his markings. Hawke's own talent for magic had stopped bothering him some time ago. Hawke was what he refered to as a Strong mage. Someone who didn't take her powers for granted, and was always aware of the dangers she faced. Anders, was not such a mage.

He saw the apostate before the apostate saw him. Busy, healing a young boy who looked ill and weakened. Fenris waited, watching as the apostate used his magic to bring the boy out of unconsciousness, the sheen of his fever falling away as the lad sat up. This alone was the reason Fenris tolerated Anders even being near the rest of his friends. Anders could heal, far better then even Angel could.

After a quick embrace of thanks, the lad was off, and the clinic was empty, save Anders and Fenris.

"What." Anders looked at him, brown eyes full of steely hatred.

"I came here to talk."

"What, in all of Thedas, do you want to talk to me about. Come to harp on mages again?" Anders sneered. , "Or perhaps you're here to remind me that I'm 'a breath away' from you turning me over to the templars?"

"No. I came here to talk about Hawke."

Ander's face fell, but it was a fleeting look. The arrogant mask Anders carried returned almost as fast as it had vanished. "What about her? Shouldn't you be busy telling her that she's a danger to the world and should jump off a clif to spare us all?" Anders shook his head, walking towards his desk.

Fenris took a deep breath, doing everything in his power not to break the face of this mage. "I would never tell her that. You know as well as I do that if the world were filled with Mages like Hawke, no one would need fear them."

"Or everyone would" Anders laughed momentarily, playing up the joke that Hawke could single handily set the world on fire.

"Yes. Never the less, I didn't come here to talk to you about how skilled she is, or my opinions on magic."

"Well then, what did you want? Just felt up to harassing me again?"

"I came here to tell you not to touch her again."

Anders froze, the laughing smirk still plastered to his face. It took a moment, but eventually it was replaced with pure anguish and the hatred that the apostate held only for him. "How.. dare.."

"I would never presume to tell her what she can or cannot do. I know better then that. Yet, I can make it perfectly clear for YOU, abomination." He wasn't sure when he had moved, or if it had been Anders himself that had walked half way across the room, but one more time he found himself with a solitary finger pressed firmly against the breastbone of the man in front of him. "I promised her I wouldn't kill you, and its not a promise I intend to break. That doesn't mean I'll allow you to touch her again."

Anders was staring at his hand as if it were about to eat him. Fenris wasn't sure it wouldn't. He did his best not to wince as the mage in front of him began to glow. "I will never understand what she sees in you. You're not a man, you're a beast. You'll hurt her one day, bite the hand that feeds you.. and I will be there to pick up the pieces."

"I would die first."

"That can be arranged. Now get out of my clinic. Again."

* * *

><p>There, I've managed to post everything that I have written so far. At least for this story. I'll start updating this regularly! Please, comment, critique, correct my spelling and grammar! Just, be kind. My ego is fragile! *heart*<p> 


	10. Heat

Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

A/N: So I blame the BSN Anders thread for a sudden departure from the DA2 universe in favor for Mass Effect and an unhealthy obsession with Thane, Kaiden, and Garrus. These three men are wonderful characters and I've got a couple of stories I'll be posting once I get them out of my dreams! I apologize for the abrupt non-updating of this story!

* * *

><p><strong>Heat<strong>

Angel flopped on to her bed, an utterly ungraceful motion. She bent one tired arm over her forehead, the sweat of the day's adventure rolling heavily down the back of her neck. Her dark hair fanned out behind her head, having finally managed to escape the red leather strap she'd been wearing in an attempt to tame it. As she lay there, sweating, dirty, and exhausted it dawned on her that she should ask Orana to draw her a cold bath. Instead, she just continued to lie there, sweating.

The heat from the summer sun had warmed the stone walls of her bedroom, making the room nearly unbearable to be in. Even though the cooled evening air was spilling into open windows through billowing curtains, it did little to soothe the humidity. The weight of the air was stifling, causing her to take slow, deep breaths to really feel as if she were getting any benefit from the act.

As she lie there, slowly breathing in and out, she let her mind wander over the events of the last few weeks. As Champion of Kirkwall she had been expected to take care of all sorts of silly little problems. She assumed the Vicount used to have to deal with these things, but there was no longer a Vicount. Knight-Commander Meredith was to busy trying to save Kirkwall from the impending doom of "Blood Mages Swooping Down Upon us". Thus, these Hightown disputes had ended up piling up in her mailbox.

She half believed that Aveline and Bran had been conspiring to drive her insane. The Seneshal was doing his best, but anything he didn't have time for ended up on Aveline's desk. Which meant anything that wasn't directly crime-related ended up on the desk of Angel Hawke. Not that she didn't appreciate Aveline and the difficult nature of her job. Of course Angel understood. After all, she'd been instrumental in the red-head's promotion to Guard-captain almost 7 years prior.

In fact, it was nearly the anniversary of their meeting, Angel Hawke and her strange band of friends. She'd met them all over the course of her first two years in Kirkwall, and while there was no exact date, they'd always chosen to celebrate it on the anniversary of Carver's death. It had been, and always was a fitting tribute to her brother.

She'd have to get with Varric to start planning. Her brain mulled quietly over details of this years party for a bit, weighing the idea of having it at her home this year, instead of at the Hanged Man. The heat wouldn't allow her to linger on one thought to long though, and her heat and sweat soaked mind continued to wander, bringing up memories of her friends.

She'd met Aveline first, the strong ginger big-sister type. They'd met the day that both Ser Wesley, and Bethany, had died. The combined loss had bonded the two, and Angel had long ago accepted the older woman as a surrogate-sibling. She could never replace Bethany in her heart, but then Aveline had never tried. She wasn't a replacement, just an addition to the family.

Varric had been next in the list. She'd met him when She and Carver were desperately trying to find a way to get their mother out of her horrible uncle's shack-of-a-home in Lowtown. A spasm of pain shot through her chest as she thought of her brother. One more family member lost to her, Carver had died when they'd finally managed to get what they were searching for. The Deep Roads was a way for them to make enough money to hide behind, enough money to get their mother out of the slums.

The Dwarf was Angel's best friend in the whole world. He knew everything about her. Aveline may have been the long lost sister she never had, but Varric was the dwarven male version of herself. He and she had minds alike, with their joint ability to make every uncomfortable situation ten times worse with a badly timed joke. Angel's mother had teased the dwarf once, that he must have been my father's love child, rather then a Tethras.

Varric still hadn't forgiven himself for Carver's death. Angel hadn't either. It hadn't been either of their faults, but 6 years later they still toasted to him, and together they mourned the man that he'd never be able to become. Angel rubbed her arm across her eyes, brushing away the tears building up in her eyes. It was to hot to cry. Instead she took a slow, steady breath, and let her mind wander to the next person she'd met that year. Isabella.

Isabella was fun as hell. She was like all of the crazy, flirty, dirty, fun, naughty bits of Hawke, manifest into the most sultry dark skinned beauty to ever walk Thedas. Isabella was a pirate, a pirate _queen, _in fact. Bela was what Hawke always wanted to be like, but was never quite brave enough. Bela was Hawke's partner in crime, eager to go on amazing shopping sprees with her, especially since it was Hawke's money they were always spending.

They'd gone through a lot, her and Bela. The Quinari presence had been directly Bela's fault. She had been a different person when she'd come to Kirkwall, and Hawke's insistent need to 'do the right thing' had eventually proven to Bela that she was a better person then she'd given herself credit for.

She really, truly was a good person, underneath the booze, sex, and self indulgence. Angel had know it almost right out of the box, but it had taken the rest of her friends a bit longer to come to terms with this. What had show this to Hawke had been the pirate's ability to take just about everything in stride, even things she disagreed with. Isabella had taken Hawke under her wing, and opened the whole world up to her. She'd done something similar with their friend, Merrill.

It had taken Angel a long time to truly trust and respect Merrill. Carver had always liked the elf, developing the most adorable crush Angel had ever seen. For herself though, the younger woman had felt threatening. It hadn't been long enough since she'd lost Beth, and this adorable, tooth-achingly sweet mage set every single one of her hairs on end. Obviously Merrill wasn't a replacement, but for a while it had felt that way.

It also didn't help that the elf was a Blood Mage. Angel was a lot of things, including dangerous, but never would she entertain the idea of Blood Magic. Malcolm had gone to great lengths to instill a healthy dose of religion in their lives. The whole lot of them might have been dirty, no good Apostates running from the chantry, but there was no way in Void that they would become Malificars.

It was actually one of the big reasons why she and Anders had gotten along so swimmingly. Anders. Had they'd been in another world, another life, another time, Angel Hawke and Anders might have been lovers. They might have married, run off together like her father and mother had..

She and Anders were alike in so many ways. They both believed firmly that Mages were people too. They believed that mages should have the opportunity to live. Live, by being able to freely marry, to be able to stay in the arms of loving parents rather then being torn forcefully from them at 5 or 6 years old. The basic rights every human, elf, dwarf, and quinari were granted. These things should be extended to mages.

Yes, Mages were dangerous. There was never any doubt to this fact. The issue wasn't that they were dangerous, but that they were prisoners! They needed training, education. Her father had taught her and Bethany how to use their gift for good. They were free to be mages and people in their home. The problem was, that they weren't free to be both in the rest of the world.

A passionate cause, and a passionate man. He was golden and gorgeous, righteous and strong. A towering flame burning for a cause, her cause. The man was sexy as hell, and had Angel met him at any other point in his life.. Or perhaps not. From what he had told them over the years, she probably would have avoided him like the plague.

Angel herself was a flirt, a tease. It had been the one thing she could always control in her life, the attention of every and any man she'd chosen. She had been virgin, not quite brave enough to go completely all the way with someone. Besides, it had always been about the chase. Once she actually had what she wanted, it was boring and she'd move on to the next doe-eyed man.

Anders had been a 'take what you want' kind of man in his younger years. If she'd have met him before his joining with Justice, they probably would have hated each other. She was a tease, and so was he.. but for him, winning was the conquest. Winning for her was the moment before the conquest, when she simply would turn the object of her current game down and walk away. Drop him like a brick and pick a new target. It would have ended up a disaster.

Truth be told, the reason she and Anders hadn't worked was because of the last person in her group to touch her life that year. Had she never met him, Anders and her probably would be horrifying Bohdan with amazing apostate sex every night. Or they would have gone insane teasing one another until they died of sexual frustration. One or the other, really.

The final person, the one who she had met last and liked the least had been an Ex-slave. Fenris. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of the white-haired elf. She licked her lips, remembering that first meeting. She hadn't ever bothered to even look at a male elf till then. Who would? Elves kept to themselves, and she had been far more interested in teasing the Templar recruits in Lothering then bother to care what the elves in the barns thought.

Fenris, with his taught, muscular body and dark emerald green eyes. Fenris with the deep voice that always sent shivers down her spine. Fenris, with the lyrium burned into his flesh and the brooding and .. and.. and suddenly it was hot in her bedroom for an entirely different reason.

She licked her lips again, her cheeks flushed, goosebumps erupting over her flesh as she lie there, eyes closed, thinking of the one man in all of Thedas that she'd allowed into her bed. He had been worthy of her. He was strong, and steady. Even if he disagreed with everything she believed about the freedom of mages, things she shared in common with Anders... He, Fenris, had been the only thing she'd ever truly wanted for herself.

Fenris. When she'd met him she'd instantly disliked him. He was gorgeous, mind you, but irritating. He'd tricked them into fighting slavers for him. That alone pissed her off. He should have just ASKED. Angel hated slavers. Mind you she didn't really give a shit about elves, but slavery in general was just sodding wrong. In fact she and her bother had murdered a half-dozen of the ilk while exploring the basement of their 'should be' home in a fact finding mission to find their grandfathers will not five hours previous.

Then to top it all off, he had the sodding nerve to _insult her_ for being a mage _after she'd just helped him for free._ The indignity of it all had sent her mouth running, and she'd done the only thing she knew how to do. She flirted with him. Easier to flirt then get mad or be irritated, or let someone know that they got under her skin. Especially when it was a man.

Make them like you, then dump them on their ass. It was her favorite game, and Fenris became the new target. He'd gotten under her skin, and she wanted him to know just what kind of mistake he'd made. Unknown to her though, was that the game had turned into something much, much more.

She started bringing him along for everything she did. Any time she'd leave the city, she'd bring him with her. Trips to the coast meant skinny-dipping with Bela while he stood guard. Trips to the mountains meant only one tent. Nights at the Hanged Man meant partially-drunken dancing in VERY short skirts, games of strip poker, truth or dare, and wicked grace.

All this in the first year, and he didn't even FLINCH. It drove her insane. He didn't bite, didn't budge. It was if she was a piece of wood, with the amount of interest he had shown. What's worse, was that Isabella had been making more progress in the "Attract Fenris" department then she had. It had almost made her hate the woman. Almost.

It wasn't until the deep roads, that Fenris finally showed his feelings. After she had put the knife to her brother, she'd been inconsolable. She'd found the farthest corner of their camp that she could and still remain safe, curled up into a ball, and let herself crumble into little pieces. He'd simple sat next to her, and given her a strong shoulder to cry on. Varric had never been very good with women crying. Not to mention that he was blaming himself and in no state to comfort her. Fenris, in all his awkwardness at not being able to relate, simple sat and let her cry. He had run his fingers through her hair, kissed her forehead, and just let her cry. She stopped trying to tease him, after that..

A deep laugh brought her back to reality, and she opened one single golden eyeball to peer in the direction of the voice. Fenris had materialized in her room, standing by the window. He was good at that, just appearing, when ever she thought about him. She closed her eye, a wide grin spreading across her face. He didn't technically live with her, but he no longer let her spend her nights alone.

He stared down at the dark haired woman sprawled out over the red silk bedsheets. Every time he looked at her, he fell in love all over again. This time was no different, even if she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and dirt. He chuckled lightly and moved to take his armor off. He never traveled around Kirkwall with out it. It just wasn't safe enough, especially in Hightown at night. Once inside the Amell estate, though, he didn't need it. Once he was down to just his leathers, he spoke.

"You really should get out of that armor, Angel. You're going to sweat to death, and then what would I do?" His deep voice rumbled, sending goosebumps down her flesh.

"Mmh, to hot. Come do it for me?"

"Tempting, very tempting." his voice was closer now, and she felt his hands slip around her middle. She didn't bother to open her eyes as she felt herself being lifted off the bed and into his arms. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck and bare shoulder.

"Lets go take a bath." He said simply, and carried her towards the bathroom.


End file.
